


Repentance

by Dragestil



Series: We are Broken, We are Whole [6]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragestil/pseuds/Dragestil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam can offer no solace, Tom must turn to Smith to grant him peace of mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repentance

**Author's Note:**

> I lied about "Absolution" being the last part. I am a terrible person. I'm not sorry.

Tom’s head hung low between his still aching shoulders. Despite now being quite far from the penthouse, he could still feel Sam’s gaze burning into his back. He loathed this feeling, the knowing guilt of having utterly failed the one he loved. It hurt far more deeply than the loss of his wings. Still, he pushed on. This was the way to redemption - or destruction, he supposed. It was hard to say.

His footsteps echoed like distant thunder as he approached the deserted cathedral. It felt emptier than it ever had, even in all the years it had been abandoned by the faithful. He didn’t bother heading for the scaffolding. He knew Smith wouldn’t be up there anyway. There were too many memories among the neglected timbers and empty windows. He slipped quietly through the front doors instead and felt the weight of his sins crash upon him anew.

“Didn’t figure you’d show up,” the kelpie muttered, distant and with a voice rough with emotion.

“Sam said I needed to.”

“Sam said, did he? Thought we offed him - or were you wrong?”

Tom didn’t fight back the flinch at the venom of Smith’s words. He deserved it he assumed. And he had promised Sam that he wouldn’t shed any more blood, not after his penitence the previous night. So he stood in front of the altar and waited. Smith took his time before slinking out from one of the confessionals. His eyes were bloodshot, and it was obvious he hadn’t been taking care of himself. The scent of lakewater rolled off of him in waves. 

“What do you want?”

“To ask forgiveness.”

Smith laughed, forced and choked and struggling. He grabbed the front of Tom’s shirt and pulled him close, staring into desperate eyes with a pair of his own. His heart hammered inside of his chest, and he wondered idly if the angel could hear it. It didn’t matter. He was too far gone anyway.

“Funny, innit, you askin’ that. What’d you tell Ross? No repentance? Think that was it.”

Smith closed the scant distance between them so their chests were touching, but there was nothing intimate about the position. Despite his height, Tom felt strangely outmatched. Was this what humans felt in his presence? He swallowed and tried not to let his gaze waver.

“I just wanted to...ask. Sam said I needed to ask you, not him. Said he couldn’t give me forgiveness because wasn’t him I wronged. So will you forgive me?”

The kelpie didn’t answer. Instead, his fist slammed into Tom’s jaw. The angel stumbled backward and momentarily raised a fist of his own to respond. Sam’s voice rang in his head though, and his hand fell as Smith landed a second blow, this time to his stomach. He tried to ground himself in one place as the attack continued. Every punch seemed to linger in his bones, and he could almost feel the bruises blossoming across his skin. This was penance, he reminded himself, even as he was brought to his knees. 

“You killed them!” Smith shouted, voice cracking. “You killed them and they’re gone and I’m not!”

Tom bit back the too easy reply of “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough, he knew - nothing would ever be enough. The blows came more swiftly, wild swings of the kelpie’s fists being traded for kicks to the legs and hips and sides. Once, Smith’s knee met Tom’s nose, and the angel knew instantly it was broken. Still he fought back the urge to verbalise his pain. He had earned this punishment. Sam would take him back after this. He would be able to live with himself, with all he had done.

Time went slowly in the dim cathedral, its passing only marked by the occasional grunts of pain from Tom and the choked back sobs of Smith. The floor around them was splattered with their blood and tears and sweat. Tom knew the church would keep their secrets for eons to come. That was the thing about churches - their walls were built to hold stories.

At last, Smith exhausted himself. He fell back into a pew, letting his body sag with the weight of his actions. Neither of them could turn back time - not with guilt and certainly not with more violence. His throat was raw from screams he couldn’t remember making, and he was pretty sure at least some of the blood on his knuckles was his own. His chest heaved as he glanced wearily at the broken man lying in front of the altar.

“Go tell Sam you’ve got what you deserved,” the kelpie breathed. “And don’t you ever come back here again.”

Tom nodded weakly and pulled himself up to his feet. He was certain things were broken and misplaced internally, but his body’s natural healing was doing just enough to let him move. He couldn’t meet the other man’s gaze, not after everything that had happened. He dragged himself from the cathedral, leaving blood droplets and lingering guilt in his wake. He couldn’t keep himself upright beyond the entrance, though, and collapsed to the pavement. He numbly dug his phone from his pocket and sent a pre-written message to Sam - “all done.”

It took only minutes for the android to arrive. He had to force himself not to cry out in horror at the mess of a figure sprawled out before him. He had promised to save Tom, and he couldn’t do that if he was panicking too. So he phoned one of Tom’s emergency contacts to pick them up, and helped load the broken angel into the back of the black SUV that soon pulled up beside them.

He stroked the man’s hair lightly as they were driven back to their building. Once they had managed to get Tom up to the penthouse and into the living room, he even offered the man one of Tom’s cards - a one time “get of jail free” cards that would prevent an undesired result during a health and safety inspection. Then they were alone, and Sam was left with the heaviness of Tom’s guilt. He knelt down on the floor by the side of the couch, running cool fingers over a heavily swollen cheek.  
“What happened? Is-”

“I let him,” Tom croaked, trying not to spit blood with each word. “You said...enough bloodshed so...I let him.”

“Tom…”

“He said tell you...got what I deserved.”

Sam swallowed and looked away. He had never wanted any of this. He hadn’t wanted to leave without a word, hadn’t wanted his friends to get hurt, hadn’t wanted Tom to suffer for all of this. He took a deep breath. There was no going back. After all, hadn’t he said as much to Tom? There were prices to be paid on all sides, and he was certainly not immune. He pressed a careful kiss to Tom’s forehead.

“Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He wouldn’t say that he couldn’t talk at the moment. He wouldn’t let Tom realise the full extent of what he had done. The fallen angel had suffered enough for one day. In the morning, when they had both perhaps managed some rest, then they could decide on how to face whatever future awaited them.

There was only one certainty: they would both be living with the consequences of their decisions. They were not human, but humanity had caught up to them at last. Sam could only hope that they would perhaps be human enough to learn from this - whatever this was. He sat with his back against the bottom of the couch, his head resting near where Tom’s lay. With nothing left to lose but each other, they drifted into sleep. Tomorrow would be another day - or at least they could dream as much.


End file.
